Beauty Within
by VampireMassacre
Summary: Silas Averheart has never fit in, a book loving outcast, and now to top it off he's been traded to Lord Balian Calervan to settle his father's debt? Little does he know, Lord Calervan is Cursed. And Silas is the one who has to break it. YAOI BoyxBoy
1. Chapter 1

-Somewhere in England, 1612-

A man sat, his face in shadow, behind a large desk, his expensive, blood red garments giving the impression of great wealth. A second man, seeming to be in his late forties, was on his knees before this great desk, three guards stationed around him.

"Your debt is months overdue, my dear man. The time has come for you to pay," a deep, gravelly voice said, coming from the shadowed man.

The older man shook visibly, sweat beading on his brow. "I…I have nothing to give, my Lord Balian. We have even less money than we did when I borrowed form you…."

"That is no concern of mine," the lord answered in a calm, icy voice, ruffling a set of papers on his desk that were the man's file. "The debt must be paid."

He lifted the file to read it better, face still completely in shadow, as he read it, then turned the page and seemed to freeze, staring at it. Almost five full minutes later, he tossed the file on the ground in front of the older man, the page showing being a painting and profile for a young boy with extremely long brown hair and gleaming crimson eyes.

"Him. Give me him as payment," the lord stated voice still cold.

The man gasped and stared in horror at the file. "B-but, my lord! That is Silas! My…my son! He is-"

The lord's mouth turned up in an unseen smirk, though it was visible in his voice. "All. You. Have. Left. He is your most precious belonging. The ONLY thing you have left to pay me with," Balian purred, knowing it was true.

The old man continued staring at the shadow, still not able to see the man's face, yet his eyes were pleading. "Please! Take my house! Take me! I can work! Anything but my Silas!"

Lord Balian made a dismissing gesture with his hand. "I have no use for a run down old hovel of a farm house, nor for the rundown old man that lives there. Give me the boy. That is all I will take."

The old man began to cry slowly, realizing there was virtually nothing he could do. "M-my Silas…my boy…" he whimpered, face in his hands.

Slight chuckling came from the shadow of the lord, and the lord waved a gloved hand to dismiss the man. I shall see you on the morrow, . Bring good Silas with you, or I shall destroy everything you hold dear. And that includes him."

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Eighteen year old Silas Averheart sat at the kitchen table in his and his father's run down cottage. His worried crimson eyes gazed out of the window at the darkening sky. Night was falling, and his father had yet to return. Sometimes Silas worried for his elderly father, for though the man himself was not the focus of scorn, Silas most assuredly was.

He kept his hair long, even though it was illegal for men to have long hair in these times, and his eyes were a deep crimson red. These red eyes brought fear to his church-loving community.

"_It is not natural. The Devil's color, they flash. Behind that beauty is a demon."_

"_He never goes after the women."_

"_...always has his nose in some book…"_

"_So quiet. He doesn't hunt or do any sports."_

"_Does he even have any friends?"_

"_Not natural...not natural..."_

Despite this, Silas was not a bad person. He was, however, somewhat anti-social. He preferred to stay in and indulge in a good book, rather than go out and hunt innocent animals that he had nothing against.

He valued knowledge over physical strength, and was very slim, along with having rather sharp, planed, yet soft, facial features that made him look like the scholar he was. These looks made him look more "pretty" than "manly" and yet it didn't stop some women from pursuing him.

Silas was gentle and very caring by nature, though when made truly angry or hurt; his temper was a force to be reckoned with, his intelligent words and keen observations about a person's character, or lack thereof, which were always correct, were enough to make most people wish they were never born.

Many young and old boys had seen the truth of this after trying to make fun of his figure, facial features, or hobbies. Earlier, he had gotten back from town to see that his father was gone; leaving a note saying he had some business to take car of and would be back before dark.

Silas was worried because the old man was not back yet, and pulled on his cowled riding cape, ready to go out and search for him. That was when he heard the hoof beats of the horse his father had taken, and rushed outside to greet the man.

"Father! I am pleased to see you have arrived back safely! I was about to ride out to find you," the young man said kindly, helping his father dismount the solid, obsidian black stallion he had been riding.

"Ah…oh really? I am sorry to have worried you, my dear boy," his father said in a trembling, quiet voice.

Silas stroked the horse's mane and observed his father through soft crimson eyes.

"Father? Is there something wrong?" Silas asked hesitantly, seeing how defeated and tormented his guardian's eyes were when he looked at him.

His father froze, eyes becoming teary. "Oh, Silas….my BOY. I'm so sorry! Forgive me!" he moaned in despair, legs giving out.

The teen immediately rushed to his side. "Oh my God! Father? Are you unwell? Here, let's get you inside," he murmured, slipping an arm around the man's waist and putting his arm over his shoulder.

Not being particularly strong, it was a bit of struggle to get his much larger guardian inside, but he managed to do so, sitting the man down in a chair. He was sweating lightly, but was much more worried about his father than himself.

Silas wet a rag and wiped away the other man's sweat form his brow, but his father suddenly grabbed his hand and shook his head, causing Silas to jump in surprise.

"No. Do not help this man who had wronged you so," he said, confusing Silas extremely.

"But you have been nothing but kind to me my entire life, father," he answered quietly, reaching once more to wipe his father's brow.

It was then that, although he hated himself for it, and thought very assuredly that Silas would as well, he told Silas what happened. Throughout the entire tale, Silas eyes remained wide, and switched more than once between green and red, which was used to.

When the story was all said and done, Silas clenched his fists and bowed his head, trembling slightly. "I understand, father. There was and is no other choice…" he muttered, voice shaking lightly in fear, yet it was accepting. There was no anger in his tone.

Silas understood, and what's more, he felt responsible. Half of the loan money his father had borrowed had gone to his education.

His father saw that look and bit his lip, reaching out to take Silas' hand. "No! I can't! I won't let them! Take Blazon! He's a good horse; he'll get you very far, very fast. Go!"

The brown haired boy smiled sweetly at his father. "No, father. I cannot. They would come after you, as well as me, then. I could never let this happen if I know there is a way to stop it. I'll go," he said, and though that smile was still on his face, his red eyes were lacking in emotion.

He bowed to his father. "I shall go and collect my essentials," he murmured, letting go of the old man's hand and going to his room.

He wasn't angry. Really he wasn't. He was just….afraid.

No one had ever seen Lord Balian's face. Nor his father's, or even his grandfather's. The lord covered every visible part of his body, no matter how hot it was outside; even cover his hands with gloves, and at times where it was essential to speak face to face, a silver mask covering his entire face.

Balian Calervan was one of the most powerful nobles in England, but he lived far away form society in a castle, in the Recveral Woods, which were said to be haunted. He was also…one of the most powerful loan sharks in England.

He would give you whatever you needed, but in return his asked almost ten times what he gave you. The man was cruel.

All of these thoughts were going through poor Silas' head as he packed a small suitcase with an extra outfit, a few of his favorite novels, an extra pair of shoes, and a large gold pendant on a delicate chain.

This was the one thing he had left of his deceased mother.

His mother, Belle, had been very pretty, and he was often told he looked and even acted a lot like her, that she had had a strange love of books as well. She had died giving birth to him.

Dread was filling his heart, and his stroked the golden pendant, tracing the ridges of the dragon engraved there. "I am making the right choice…right, mother?" he whispered in a scared tone.

A light feeling, just barely a whisper, of hope seemed to seep from the gold and into his finger tips. He sighed and smiled lightly, though his eyes were still sad.

"Alright…"


	2. Silver Plated Finality

Actually I didn't think this story would be as popular with you guys as it seems to be, but for Christmas, HERE YOU GO. An update on the story I HOPE you've been waiting for. Also, yes I refer to his father as an old man because, in the 1600's, you were ancient if you lived to 50. He's 45.

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The next day, Silas stood with his father in the same room the old man had been in the day before, three body guards stationed around the room and Lord Balian once again behind his desk. Everyone, including the shadowy lord, was silent as Silas stood alone in the center of the room, looking down at his feet submissively.

His father looked like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

"So you are Silas…" the deep voice stated, his tone as enigmatic as his hidden face.

Silas kept his blank eyes on the ground, hands hanging loosely by his sides. "Yes, my Lord," the scholar murmured in a quiet voice.

"Are you durable, my dear Silas?" Balian asked, voice curious and slightly suggestive.

Silas stiffened, eyes widening a fraction in slight panic. "In what way, my Lord?" he asked respectively.

The voice of the faceless lord chuckled. "You are well knowledged in respect. That is good. I meant, how much stress could your body take before you say, passed out?"

The blood froze in Silas's veins as he understood most likely what the lord meant, and the slight noise form his father said the older man understood as well. Silas cleared his throat and swallowed nervously.

"Ah…I am not exactly sure, my Lord. I have never…um….pushed myself that far," he said nervously, glancing at the ground on his right, red eyes no longer blank, but scared and worried.

Though the boy couldn't see Balian's face, not even his mask as even that was in shadow, he heard the smile in the man's next words. "Is that so? Then I will have to inspect the goods. Strip," the order came with the wave of a gloved hand at Silas.

The brunette couldn't help but take a shocked step back, and his father cried out in dismay. "Lord Balian! Please do degrade my son any further!" the old man begged, trying to step forward, only to be held back by a guard.

Silas's eyes were huge and this time held obvious shame and fear, his teeth were clenched, his face red in humiliation.

"He is no longer your son, Averheart. He is my property," the lord stated in a bored tone, gesturing once more to Silas. "Now, Silas. Do as I have said and show me the body I am to be receiving as payment."

Silas's teeth remained clenched, as well as his fists, but his eyes gained a determined look. "Yes, my Lord," he murmured, beginning to unbutton the red overcoat he wore.

His father struggled against the guard's hold on him. "No! Take everything! I'll give you everything else! Just…just Silas, don't!"

The son merely smiled sadly at his struggling father, taking off his waist coat as well. "Father, please. I couldn't bear it if you did that for me. It's okay," he said in a loving tone, though his voice shook slightly.

Balian was silent as Silas removed his shirt finally, and then removed his trousers, hands shaking more and more violently as he went. Said hands hesitated at his underwear, however, as if frozen. Balian stood, smiling slightly under the silver, dragon engraved mask he wore. He walked up to the frozen Silas, whose eyes, now a bright red color under the stress of the situation, were centered on this ground, wide as diner plates.

Balian's dark black hair, so black actual blue highlights were visible, surprised Silas. Because it was long. Though pulled back into a very loose pony tail at the nape of the lord's neck, the raven locks came down to Balian's waist, not to mention the fact that those weren't blue highlights created by the lighting, Balian's hair was actually BLUE where the color was, and there was some purple mixed in with it at well.

A white gloved hand slipped a finger under Silas's chin and tilted the boy's head up, mismatched eyes of purple and blue meeting with crimson. The mismatched gaze also surprised Silas. "There is no need to go any further. I can see everything I need to see as you are," he murmured, voice actually taking on a gentle tone.

Silas's eyes remained wide, staring into the mismatched eyes behind the mask of engraved, blank silver. The hand was removed in an instant, the lord beginning to walk around the shorter boy, eyes scanning his figure. Silas couldn't help but shiver under the intense, yet still beautiful gaze of the lord. Who had purple eyes, really? Let alone ONE purple eye.

He had to fight the urge to cover himself, and it was then that he realized everyone other than himself was very tense and silent, just watching the lord watch him.

"Yes…this is good. I can see you aren't used to hard labor, so therefore I must rule that out. Though, it seems you possess _some_ natural muscle, so you should not be completely useless," the lord commented, his tone once again bored and distant.

"Tch!" said Silas, somewhat insulted. Though…it was true, he was very slim, but did possess light muscle.

"This is degrading!" his father shouted, once again struggling against the guard holding him.

Said guard held fast to him, yet his gaze, along with the other two's as well, was riveted on Silas's figure. The lord chuckled. "Nothing is degrading to him. He is my possession, my slave. An object to be used as I please. Isn't that right, Silas?"

The scholar's rage suddenly burst into being at being called an object. "No. Not right. Fuck. No!" he denied harshly, turning now burning crimson eyes on his owner. "I'm a person, slave or not! I have rights, and feelings. Though I understand the need to inspect me for further use, you could have at least asked the other's to leave or asked if I was comfortable doing as you asked! Acknowledged that I have a will of _my own!_ I will do almost anything you ask, Lord Balian, but I am not an OBJECT!" he ranted, panting by the end of it.

As he had raged, he had made his way to standing in front of the lord without realizing it, chest to chest, his angry eyes glaring up into blue and purple. The lord's cold gaze was slightly amused, but Silas refused to back down, his red eyes boring into Balian's.

"Brave words to say, young Silas, when you are standing half naked in front of me as payment for a debt," the lord replied calmly, gloved hands grabbing Silas's upper arms. The smaller man's eyes dilated realization, anger leaving his expression as his eyes returned to blank red. He lowered said eyes and tried to step back, but was held in place by the lord's grip on his arms.

"Ah-ah. Don't think to run after such an outburst as that," Balian purred.

Silas remained still, pride shot and eyes hooded and blank once more. Balian frowned behind his mask, not liking that the brunette's fire was so easily doused. Perhaps an inferiority complex? He raised a hand to pet Silas's hair, a reward for being good.

"Good boy, Silas. Now, I do believe this meeting is over. Silas shall stay here, Mr. Averheart, you shall go. And, you may get dressed as well," the lord stated, stepping away from the boy.

Silas was shocked at how warm the hand on his head had been, as well as by how quick Balian's moods seemed to change, and looked over at his father as if in a daze. The man looked right back at his son and hung his head in shame.

"Forgive me, Silas. I love you," he said as he was practically dragged out.

Silas merely smiled and waved lightly at his father. "All is forgiven, of course, father. I love you as well," he replied, going over to collect his clothes and slip them quickly back on. Balian made a gesture at the guards, and one brought forward a black box, setting it on the desk as Balian sat down and they all left the room. Silas looked in confusion at his new owner and the box as he straightened his clothes.

Balian gestured to the box with his head. "This is for you. Wear it always so everyone will know you are mine."

Stepping forward hesitantly, Silas took the box and opened it, gaze snapping to Balian's blank mask of a face at seeing the contents of the box.

The man shrugged, his huge grin hidden behind his mask. "I can see you do not approve, but your opinion matters not. Put it on," he ordered boredly.

Silas grimaced, taking out the heavy solid silver collar in the box, the pendant where the tag for an animal's name was instead the Calervan family crest, which Silas was shocked to see was identical to the dragon on his mother's pendant. Gulping, he unclasped the back and put it around his neck, fastening it. The heavy silver felt cold and final against his skin.

Balian was still smiling behind his mask. "Good. That will never come off of you now. Once fastened, it can never be removed, it locks permanently, there is no key."

Silas gasped and brought a hand to the collar. "N-no….That's not even possible!" he whispered in a despairing voice.

"Hmn?" Balian purred. "You do not believe me? Then, I will swear to you this. Should you ever manage to remove that collar, I will give you your freedom."

Immediately, Silas pulled and felt along the collar, trying to find the seam where it had fastened and get it off. But there wasn't one, like it had fused together and made it one solid piece of metal. It was impossible to get it off. His shoulder slumped in defeat as he felt his freedom fly out of the metaphorical window.

Balian sat forward in his seat, setting his elbows on the desk and folding his hands. "Fear not, dear Silas. You have your whole life to work on it. Now, I shall call a carriage to take you to your new home."


End file.
